bourdain

The food WAS that good--the portions small. Admittedly, I hit a wall around the cheese course-what with aaall the wine..but focussed and made it through, tasting everything. It was still a big meal which I fasted for 36 hours before tackling. But it's so well thought through it never ceased to keep the table intensely interested--each course a happy, much anticipated surprise. As far as price? No idea--especially with all the wines. The TV production company paid--and I believe Keller was very nice to us. I will say that for what we had, anything up to say..1500 a person we would have paid without blinking. Almost no price would have been inappropriate. I mean, how much is a designer jacket? Knicks tickets courtside for ONE game? A freaking Prada bag? (not that I'd pony up for any of those--okay maybe a jacket) Compared to a meal I will remember forever--and is probably unreproducable at any other restaurant in the world? I'd blow a months rent and crawl across broken glass in a hot second.

I always thought Patrick Clark was the coolest guy around back in the day.

Touche....Maybe "whimsical" was not the best choice of words. Though specials often reflected ingredients purchased on a whim.

I was dubious about the legendary Live Monkey Brain. Did it exist prior to Faces of Death..and later Indiana Jones? Was it a jungle version of the urban legend? Did enterprising cooks in the Golden Triangle and elsewhere create the "dish" in response to inquiries from credulous backpackers and toursists? Is it food? Or some creepy male-bonding "medicinal" thing (meaning alternative Viagra)? Sad to say. it does exist--and has for some time, I am authoratatively assured as recently as two days ago in Singapore--at a Chinese "herbal" restaurant (specializing in turtle fat, scorpions, and curative food) and previously in Vietnam, Cambodia and elsewhere. No WAY am I gonna eat that. That's where I draw the line. First, have no expectation that such a thing could possibly taste good. Second, however hypocritical or squeamish of me--I simply cannot abide a hurt monkey's face, its screams of pain in the name of food or novelty or experience. Had a humble rice farmer come at me a with a steaming plate of puppy heads, or cat-kebabs--as might well have happened-- the choice between overcoming my Western, pet-owning, pet loving reticence and horror and offending my host would be a very, very difficult one. I'd probably choke down a few bites--as I like to be a good guest--but I wouldn't like doing it--even if tasty. I sure as hell wouldn't order any in a restaurant. I am very glad the circumstance has not arisen--and I went out of my way to not find myself in a position where either cat or dog would be offered. (though I saw caged dogs in Can Tho at a kill-to-order restaurant.) Hypocritical? Yes. No way on monkey brain.. I tend to lose my appetite around torture.

Arzak's duck egg poached with truffle oil and duck fat comes to mind--as does Keller's White Truffle Oil Infused Custard (baked in the shell) and "Bacon and Eggs" . I think Barney Greengrass's Nova, Onions and Eggs is the gold standard for breakfast eggs. As far as humor or whimsy on a menu? I think it's a fine line--a razor sharp one. Only Keller consistently gets away with it. Most of the time, matters lurch quickly into the cutesy-and menus with "funny" or "ironic" or whimsically referential names for dishes usually scare the hell out of me as misuse of the English language often sems to lead to misuse of food. I think subtle plays on classic dishes can work--and often do. But comedy and food rarely mix--at least from the diners point of view.

That criticism is entirely valid. I am "executive chef" (whatever that means these days) at a brasserie--a very good, very authentic one, I think--but a brasserie just the same. That's basically a French diner. I am not now, never was, and never threatened to be a great chef--and the times I tried to be one, I usually bankrupted my owners. That I will most likely end my career at Les Halles is appropriate--It's the kind of food I should have been cooking all along--and a fair expression of my strengths and weaknesses as a cook. References to me iin the press as a "top chef" are flattering but innacurate. I am known to most people almost entirely for my admittedly lurid and obnoxious memoir and whatever other writings I can crank out while still enjoying my 15 minutes. I am, however, planning a Brasserie Les Halles Guide To Strategy and Tactics of French Cooking--which I've been describing as Julia Child meets Full Metal Jacket. I will NOT write the recipes alone--leaving that to the owners and chefs of the various Les Halles--and will use the standard, time-tested recipes that existed long before I arrived there. I will provide translation, commentary, explanation of professional techniques, staging and mis-en-place and anecdotal material which will hopefully allow the home cook to see how cassoulet, for instance can be easily attained by staggering preparation over time and using the right beans (Tarbais), and ingredients. I hope it will be a butt-ugly utilitarian cookbook, resembling an army field manual: brown butcher paper cover, pre-stained--so you're not afraid to bring it in the kitchen with you. First sentences will be: "Listen up, screwhead! What is your major fucking malfunction!?"

The "Real Deal"? Implies the same in person as on TV (see Nigella). Also used when referring to a chef who delivers the goods as advertised--without bullshit, trickery, nonsense, irrelevant distractions or fabrication--as in Fergus Henderson.

Literary figures/trends who interest me? Nabokov, James Crumley, Daniel Woodrell, Graham Greene, De Lillo, Malcolm Lowry, JG Ballard, Ross Macdonald, biographies of crackpot "Orientalist" explorers like Sir Francis Richard Burton, memoirs by ex-spies, Alan Furst, Lermontov, Fitzgerald, Vietnam era war correspondents bios, Freeling's The Kitchen, Orwell, Bemelmans..and just about anything else that catches my fancy. I read very quickly. Lately, I've enjoyed Dirk Wittenborn's Fierce People..Michael Collins' The Resurrectionists, Will Ferguson's HappinessTM and I'm absolutely riveted by the work of Nick Tosches--all of it. Culinary Figures? I have been rightly accused of being at times, more interested in cooks--and the subculture of cooking than in the actual food itself. Fergus Henderson and Gordon Ramsay, I've gone on and on about--obviously I like both them and their food. I'm a big fan of Donovan Cooke in Melbourne--a brilliant cook and a madman...Tetsuya Wakuda in Sydney...Keller, of course--will always be for me, the Top Dog in fine dining. I think Doug Rodriguez is onto something...I will always be grateful for Gabrielle Hamilton at Prune for putting on the bone marrow..and I like her, her restaurant, her approach to food..Norman Van Aiken is about as far away from my kind of cooking as you can get--but I think he's a terrific practitioner of "fusion" at its best--a good example of that not always being a dirty word..Scott Bryan at Veritas, naturally, Eric Ripert at Le Bernardin..love what Tom Valenti does to a piece of meat...like Wylie Dufesne's stuff..Rocco di Spirito's..and love nothing more than to sit down across from Yasuda-san at Sushi Yasuda for the full-bore tasting (He's an ex-boxer and can talk Ali Frazier while dealing out the most amazing array of hard-to-find straight from the hip sushi). Paul Kahan at Blackbird in Chicago...Daniel Boulud, of course...I think Mario Batali is a force for good in the world--and particularly love Lupa--the only traditional format cooking show to do God's work--meaning highlighting oily, bony little fish, hooves, snouts, shanks, and guts..There are a lot of good chefs out there. If there is a hopeful trend it's in the direction that Mario's going. No nonsense, let-the-ingredient-speak casual eating.

Henry is a complete figment of my own imagnation--fueled by extensive reading of (and an unhealthy obsession with) histories of the French and American intelligence services. I was inspired by accounts of Gaullist agents--many hired from the ranks of Corsican organized crime groups--who did the dirty work of assassinating dissidents and coup-plotters during the Algerian business--as well as taking on other work in Africa (often, it is said, on a loaner basis for the CIA)Bamboo was an early heartfelt and not entirely successful attempt at hitting a home run with a romantic potboiler--a beach read for sociopaths--and a love letter to Saint Martin. And Frances? Well..I guess you could say there are definitely some similarities. You can, by the way, use the book as a pretty good guide to where to eat, drink, sleep and screw in Saint Martin--almost all locations are real. The Oyster Pond Yacht Club, where my heroes live, has since become a hideous and gargantuan resort. I suggest La Samanna as an alternative.

Hey, Blue... When I work in the kitchen--(an increasingly rare occurrence these days)--I always wear clogs. Just about every sensible cook I know does. Maximum arch and back support, maximum ventilation for hot feet..minimal damage from spills on toes. Sneakers, while lighter and easier to scoot around in, lead to trench foot and toe rot--and quickly become as fragrant as old durian as they soak up[ sweat and food. Ditto heavy work shoes.. Sandals are tempting but insanely risky--and have no arch support--though I do know a few daredevils who wear them in summer....And yes..I know the clogs look silly.

I thought I looked fat in that dress. Note to self: Avoid stripes.

Nigella is strange--and fabulous and the Times piece was an absolute ringing bell--pointing up not only how good recipe-driven food writing can be but how bad it has been since Hesser began inexplicably morphing into Amy Sohn Lite. Count me among the many who have fallen under Ms. Lawson's spell. Her show is as much about the pleasures of eating what's good as it is about cooking. Don't let the inevitable, sexy photos of her nibbling provocatively at asparagus tips put you off. She's the real deal. Why do I think Simon might care to weigh in on this burning issue?

Oh Jesus....Oh...that's awful! I don't know which is worse: "intellectual" or "Jamie Oliver"! And if that's not bad enough--here comes Majumdar--whose every sentence(almost) I admire, to give me an elegantly applied boot to the groin, suggesting both COOKS and KITCHEN were cooked up in some corner office at Bloomsbury or Harpers like a freaking N'Sync album. I would have thought the sheer sloppiness of both finished products would have disabused him of that notion. And for the record, Simon? Even in my prime (such as it was), I wouldn't have lasted ten minutes in a GR kitchen. While it is entirely possible--and even likely--that when my 15 minutes are up (any minute now...) I find myself cleaning mussels and squid in a cellar prep kitchen again, I think it's way too late to contemplate a Down and Out 2002. Someone else should--and hopefully will write that book. I'm over there in a few weeks, Majumdar--If I find myself having an early Guiness and kidney breakfast at the Cock--how will I recognize you? Would love to knock back a few pints and argue about something/anything. I'll be the guy without the plastic helmut.

I have no problem with Mr. Rayner's review. I have and will continue to give reasonable people plenty of reasons to not like my work--or me. I think that comparing the two quotes above, though, that it would be fairer to say that this book and TV round the world tour was indeed the biggest score of my life. I may have plenty of mixed emotions about making television (my relentless, frenzied book-flogging to the contrary)--but I had no such confusion about seeing the world--and eating up as much of it as I could at the time. It was, in fact, a great adventure for me. The opportunity to bounce around SE Asia and Mexico and Europe was something about which I was unrestrainedly enthusiastic. Whether my travels resulted in worthwhile reading is a fair subject for disagreement.

How are these stories related to the appreciation of food in those countries. I can well imagine a book devoted to drunken parties in the U.S. and I can imagine it being interesting, but I can't imagine the relationship to food. Or better yet, I can imagine a European coming over and making the rounds of sports bars in NY and then returning home to write a book about dining in NY, but perhaps I'm missing the point of the book. You seem to have missed the point of the greater part of the history of dining, feasting and eating since Roman times. Alcohol--and lots of it--would appear to be a regular feature. One could--I guess--be rude to one's hosts in Russia, for instance--and decline the sixth or seventh--or tenth teary, sentimental toast. One could, as well, decline tequila at a feast on a ranch in Mexico, refuse to "pour back" sake in Japan, turn up one's nose at the cloudy--probably lethal--rice moonshine offered by one's host at a duck farm in Vietnam--and there's no reason to stick with your Spanish pals on a typical; tapas crawl. After the morning glass of "marc", and French lunch rolls around: the aperetif--and the white wine and the red wine, maybe a Tokay with dessert, one could, of course, decline the cognac. One could simply stay in one's hotel and order room service and bottled water. But then, why travel? I'm not suggesting lurching across the world in a Buckfast-fueled stupor--but it seems to me that local beverage--and local custom and practice--and the earnest generosity and goodwill of one's hosts--are as integral to the experience as the local food itself.